


My Roots Run Deep (Into the ground they go)

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Cultural Differences, Dwarves, Gen, Humor, Languages, M/M, Misunderstandings, Rating May Change, Romance, Sassy Bilbo, Thorin Broods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits have their own language. </p><p>Of course they do. Thank you very much. </p><p>But its a secret, but its hard to keep secrets when you're only a one halfling among 13 dwarves and a wizard.  </p><p>It helped even less when you start to have feelings for one of them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kadife (Velvet)

_Quien no tiene su casa, es vecino de todo el mundo._  

He who has no home is neighbor to the entire world.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bilbo’s father, old Bungo Baggins, had a saying _: “_ _Mas vale una dracma de mazal que una oca de ducados”_ which in Westron roughly translates to ‘A single ounce of luck is worth more than a whole pile of gold.’ 

He was a wise sort, a bit overwhelmed by his Took wife and half Took son but still he found the time to quietly muse over the state of Arda as it was and the future of its inhabitants. 

It was a good saying, but unheard of outside the Shire’s green lands. For most of the big folk were completely unaware that Hobbits even had their own language.  What good would it be, anyway, if no one else could understand it?

It was a bit presumptuous of them, Bilbo considered, just because you don’t _know_ something exists doesn't mean it doesn't exist at all.  

Gandalf The Grey was the only outsider than gave the Shire’s culture any sort of respect; he’d endeavored to pick up a few choice words and phrases of Hill Speak (as we shall call it) but understood that it was a special, secret thing that families shared in their homes, chattered by their fires and sang to their children. 

Bilbo had only spoken Hill Speak until the age of six, wherein all faultlings by the decree of the Thrain should begin to be taught the common tongue.  His mother, Belladonna, had schooled him. She was a good teacher, firm but fair, and knew not to push her son too hard for he was still very young.

Sometimes, quite at random, she would test him.

 _“Bilba”_ She would say, and point to something, maybe a tree or a bird. _“Que es esto?”_

 _('Bilba'_ dear reader and our friend Bilbo are in fact one in the same, but the latter was the hobbit's formal name if you will, that which he used to introduce himself to passing strangers; non-hobbits.) 

“Haselnut.” _Avyana._

“Knife.” _Kuchiyo_

“Paper.” _Papel._

So it was that Bilbo learned how the big folk talked, but he was first and foremost a Hobbit, and honoured those long dead Baggins’ by keeping the old words alive. The Hill Speak pulsated within him, hummed in his ears and he spun the vowels like gold from his lips.

 _“Uno anyo maz, un Sehel mas.”_  He would whisper as the season’s changed, and his parent’s passing no longer pained him so, but rather faded to a dull longing and he was lonely sometimes.

Then the Wizard brought 13 dwarves to his door. Uninvited I might add.

“I think I am owed an explanation Gandalf!”  Bilbo rightly demanded, as he found that he was suddenly quite overrun with more guests than Bag end could hold.  They’d already drank his cider, eaten his food, and trod mud into the carpet with their boots.

But out of them all, the last one to arrive, a dark haired fellow with smouldering blue eyes, was the rudest.

“I thought you said this place would be easy to find.” He grumbled. “I lost my way, twice.”

Bilbo frowned, Bag end was on a straight road, how do you get lost on a straight road?

“I asked an old Halfling for directions but I couldn’t understand his accent.” He added quietly to Gandalf, ignoring Bilbo’s presence.

The hobbit seethed. _He probably couldn’t understand yours either, you pompous oaf._

His thoughts would have been in Hill Speak, but from here on I shall translate, dear reader.

After a rather awful song had been sung at his expense, and his dishes had been thrown around, Bilbo lost his temper and pulled the old wizard aside.

 “My dear Bilbo, it’s not as bad as all that.” reassured Gandalf.

“Not that –you have brought _dwarves_ into my home Gandalf! _Casa mia, nido mio!_ And why?”

“ _Fas el bien, no mires a quien,_ Bilbo Baggins, these dwarves of which you speak are in need of your help. Which I know you will give generously, because you are a fine fellow.”

 Gandalf took a puff of his pipe and looked at the hobbit from under his giant hat.  Bilbo did not like that look, so he crossed his arms defensively. “Very well, _Chobán_ ” said the hobbit, still irritated.

“I’ll hear what they have to say, but I fail to see what a bunch of dwarves could want with a Gentlehobbit like me.” Gandlf chuckled. “I assure you, my dear Bilbo, you are preciously what they are looking for.”

 It transpired that the dwarves, ‘heirs of the house of Durin’ as they called themselves and their leader Thorin Oakensheild, were burdened with glorious purpose.

Erabor, the great mountain kingdom, had been taken by a Smaug, truly a creature of nightmares, a dragon and a brute to boot.  He had forced Thorin’s people to flee, turning them into nomads, vagrants, doomed to wander Arda until it was safe to return.  

How did Bilbo come into all this? 

Well, they also happened to need someone sneaky, a burglar they said, to go into the Dragon’s lair and steal back a most prized treasure; The Arkenstone, the one thing that would give Thorin the right to rule. 

Then there was the longest contract Bilbo had ever seen.   

 _“Incineration?”_ He gulped.

 “Think of a furnace with wings.” said one member of the company, Bofur by name, about the monster they wanted to just walk up to and steal from. There was something else about burning flesh but by that time Bilbo had passed out and couldn't remember the rest.

 When he awoke, Gandalf looked slightly guilty, the dwarves looked confused and Thorin just looked disappointed.  Bilbo shivered, quite chilled by the misplaced King’s frosty gaze.  

He had gone to bed with much to think about, and hoped he didn’t have any nightmares about dragons. He didn't, but could not sleep soundly. 

Despite the noise, and the mess, and the staring at his feet, Bilbo felt… exhilarated, _exited._  

The dwarves laughter was contagious, and the whole place had been filled with it. _Ermozo riyir._

 In an odd, Tookish part of his mind, Bilbo wondered what the Thorin’s laughter would sound like, would it be loud like his thunderous voice? Or maybe a low chuckle in the back of his throat?  

That, among many, many other reasons was why the hobbit signed that fatal contract and ran as fast as he legs could carry him, hurdling over fences and through the big field until he caught up with the company; now _his_ company.

He handed the white haired dwarf, Balin, the contract and he smiled.  “Give him a pony.” Said Thorin gruffly, and sure enough Bilbo was hoisted upwards and dropped roughly on the only spare beast despite his complaints.

 “ _Ay!_ “ The hobbit squeaked at his was man handled, and mumbled a Hill Speak cures when he landed on his ponies back. She tossed her head, not very happy with the situation herself.

 Gandalf gently nudged his pony forward so that he could trot alongside Bilbo, the hobbit looked at him with questioning eyes.  

“I am glad you decided to come along after all, my dear friend” Smiled the old wizard.  Bilbo gave an out of breath chuckle. _“_ _Ay que dia…”_ he sighed, softly so the others couldn't hear. 

 _“Ay que demanyana,_ little fellow. _”_  Gandalf gently corrected, still smiling. “The day has only just started, and I dare say you’ve not seen all the surprises it has to offer."

The hobbit didn’t reply, but looked only ahead, through the winding woods and far, far away, maybe trying to see what lay in store for he and his new companions.

Alas, he was not able to predict the future, he had to plod along and wait, for whatever fate had planned would come around in good time.

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Non mi mires la color, mirami la savor._

Don't judge me by my colour, judge me by my flavour.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**2 weeks into the Quest.**

 

 

Bilbo Baggins was wet, he was cold, and he was quite miserable.

Apparently this was all because he was a _hobbit,_ a soft, spoiled little creature that had no understanding of the wilds and should really stop moaning about every little thing.

 _No_. Thought Bilbo. _It’s because it’s been raining for three days straight._

And it had been, dear reader, and you can only imagine what affect the unexpected downpour had on the Company’s morale, especially since it was so soon into their journey.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” Mumbled Oin, huddling deeper into his hood “Mahal save me, what is this _weather?_ ”

Bilbo had no hood to huddle into, and his jacket and waistcoat provided were soaked through and probably not giving him any sort of protection from the elements at this point. He sniffled, and grumbled, but was ignored.

Bofur, the chap who’d made him faint with his horrid depiction of Smaug, seemed to take pity on him (not that the hobbit wanted it mind you) and offered Bilbo his coat.

It was a small kindness, but the gesture was so genuine in its meaning that Bilbo felt warmed by it. He thanked the dwarf, was declined to take it, for he didn’t want another to suffer because he’d lacked the foresight to pack the right clothes.

Bofur shrugged good-naturedly.  “Suit yourself, laddie.”

At that moment, another of his father’s proverbs came to mind _“Culebra que no mir morde, que viva mil anos.”_

The snake that doesn't bite me, may it live for a thousand years.  

Not that we was dismissing the dwarf’s pleasant nature, he seemed a nice sort, but Bilbo wasn't quickly making friends among his travelling companions so it was best he saviour any good will towards him.

Be it spawned from sympathy, or actual attempts at friendship.

The only other members of the group who regularly interacted with him without looks of distrust or exasperation were Fili and Kili; who were the youngest of the Durin sons. 

Not that they wanted to be friends, they just wanted someone to pick on, someone to play jokes on.

There was a name for two boys such as these:

_Sabe la verdad._

_Best to shrug it off_. Bilbo considered. _They’ll get bored soon._

“Mister Boggins! Mister Boggins!” laughed Kili, appearing from nowhere with his brother as was their want, and crowding right into Bilbo’s personal space.

“It’s Mister _Baggins,_ Kili.” Fili chastised, and then grinned at the hobbit. “What are you up to today, may I ask, Mister Baggins?”

“Anything fun?” added Kili.

The hobbit kept his expression neutral, and only made a noise in the negative as a response.

“Aww, that’s a shame.” Fili sighed with exaggerated sadness.

“Yeah! You’re normally such fun to be around!” Kili sniggered, slapping Bilbo on the back, making him jolt a little.

 _Don’t you pests have anything better to do?_ It didn't help that they also happened to be Thorin’s nephews; the king already thought Bilbo was a useless lump. Bilbo wasn't going to anger the dwarf further by bashing his kin’s heads together.

Then, for no reason at all, Myrtle (as Bilbo had named her) took fright and whined and kicked in apparent distress. Bilbo could only grip the reigns helplessly and try to soothe her.

Suddenly he saw a white flashing tail and a pair of whiskers disappear into the nearby brush.

 _“Ay! un Konejo!”_ he cried before he could help it, and then let out a bark of laughter and patted Myrtle’s neck. “Silly girl.” And they said he was highly strung.

Fili and Kili’s own ponies only nickered softly and Myrtle’s display and the brothers themselves wore expressions of bemusement.

“What does that mean?”  asked Kili.

Bilbo blanched.  He hadn't meant to use Hill Speak, _Maldito!_   It was a reflex, but he must be more disciplined. _You’re not in the Shire now Bilba,_ he scolded himself internally, _Hill Speak is to stay at home! and not to be spoken with such carelessness! And not in such company._

Kili and Fili were still staring at him intently, waiting for a translation. Well, Bilbo was not going to give it.

“Nothing.” The hobbit said curtly, and then let his irritation with the lads slip. “Why don’t you go and bother someone else for a change? Tatty bye, you two.”

He gave Myrtle a slight nudge in the ribs to move forward and away from the brothers. He didn't look back, otherwise he might have seen Fili and Kili’s looks of confusion and hurt.

It just so happened that he ended up next to Balin, who nodded politely. “Master Baggins.”

“Master Balin.” 

The white haired dwarf chortled, but it was not malicious. “Balin, lad, just Balin.”

Bilbo blinked at him, unsure, then let himself smile for the first time in days. "Then you must call me Bilbo.”

In a moment of bravery he offered Balin his hand, to his relief the dwarf took it and grasped it with a firm but not overly tight grip. “Bilbo.” He said simply with a twinkle in his old eyes.

The hobbit felt his cheer begin to return to him despite the continuing rain, and chatted freely with Balin as they marched forward. He was, ad Bilbo expected, the oldest of the group by a good few years. He was a cultured fellow he liked to read, and played fiddle as a youngling but now his hands were riddled with arthritis,  so he could not make the notes like he used to. 

What surprised Bilbo the most was that Balin actually _thanked_ the hobbit for his hospitality a fortnight past, and said that the others would come around. Eventually. Maybe. 

Dwarves just preferred to stay with their own kind, and Bilbo couldn't pretend he didn't understand what that meant. 

He already missed the Shire more than he should. The hobbit could hear the sweet, honey voice of his mother in his ear, calling him back for supper. 

_No. Its too early for homesickness._

The old dwarf looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Fili and Kili. “Hmm, those two are whispering, I don’t like it, can only mean trouble.”

“When are they not trouble?” Bilbo deadpanned.

Balin gave him a pat on the arm. “Pay them no mind young one, they don’t mean any real harm, they’re just being silly boys.”

 _What about Thorin? And Dwalin? And the rest?_ Bilbo asked himself grimly. _I may have made a mistake…_

The merry tune of a nightingale cut through his dark inner mantra and the hobbit looked up in pleasant surprise.

 _Buenos diyas, bilbilikos,_ _Ke haber?_

This time he remained quiet, but oh, dear reader, how he wanted so much to greet that dear little bird. It seemed to be calling to him:

_ke'stó kantando_

_ke'stó kantando._

But it flew away as quickly as it had come.

But its song lingered in Bilbo’s head, and he was reminded of a tune from his childhood and he began to hum it.

From the front, with his black mane flying, Thorin turned and gave Bilbo a narrow eyed look. The hobbit swallowed.

“Try to hum a bit quieter Halfling” Rumbled the King, mouth twitching as if he was amused or quite possibly annoyed at something. “We don’t want an Orc pack upon us.”

“ _Orc pack_?” Spluttered the hobbit; almost falling of Myrtle in a faint.

Around him, a few dwarves laughed, and Bilbo shrank into himself and was afraid to make even the slightest noise, in case Thorin wasn't joking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions:
> 
> Uno anyo maz, un Sehel mas. - one year older, one year wiser  
> Casa mia, nido mio! – My home, my nest  
> Fas el bien, no mires a quien - Do good, and don't care about with whom  
> Chobán – shepherd (nickname for Gandalf)  
> Ay que dia – Oh what a day  
> Ay que demanyana – Oh what a morning 
> 
> Sabe la verdad – babes and fools  
> Ay! un Konejo – Oh! A rabbit.  
> Maldito! - Damn  
> ke'stó kantando - I am singing 
> 
> Buenos diyas, bilbilikos, Ke haber? Good morning, nightingale, how are you?  
> AN: The language I’ve used for the Hobbits is Ladino, also known as Judaeo-Spanish which was originated from the Sephardi Jews expelled from Spain in 1492 and deprived from old (medieval) Spanish. It borrows many words from Hebrew and had taken on a little Arabic, Greek and Turkish vocabulary although many specific words have a Hispanic twist to them. It’s considered a minority language now, but had been rivalled in some places through song particularly. Some of Bilbo’s dialogue will be just straight European Spanish because sometimes Ladino confuses me XD


	2. Kavod (Honor)

_Quien no risica, no rosica._

Whoever doesn't laugh doesn't bloom.

* * *

**2 days later.**

As it turns out, dear reader, Thorin was not joking about Orcs. Not even in the slightest.

One did not simply  _joke_  about Orcs.

Fili and Kili were suitably chastised when they did not react with the upmost seriousness to what may or may not have been the sound of a pack of the horrid creatures crying into the night.

But Balin, kind old Balin, sort to soothe the burns from the king's harsh words:

"Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."

He went to tell the gristly tale of the battle of Moira, and twas the first time that Bilbo heard the name of the vilest Orc to ever walk Arda: Azog the Defiler. Just hearing it said made the company members twitch uncomfortably and Fili and Kili were quieter than they'd ever been. If Thorin himself was scared, he didn't let it show.

But that wasn't the worst part, dear reader, oh no.

Thorin's father, Thrain, had gone mad with grief when King Thror, Thorin's grandfather was slain by the White Orc and hadn't been seen since. Be him killed, taken prisoner or just wandering the Lonely Mountain… nobody knew.

Bilbo buried his parents and was not left to wonder what became of them, the hobbit doubted he could stomach the worrying, the never knowing.

 _At least I know where my father is._  Bilbo sadly looked over to the king.  _I can't imagine what he must feel._

This time, one of his great Uncle Lotho's dry observations came to mind:  _El rey fa hasta donde puede, y no hasta donde quere._

The king goes as far as he can, & not as far as he wishes.

Almost spookily appropriate, but then again, the Shirefolk had a clever saying for almost every occasion. When you have much time to talk, then much gets discussed.

Bilbo snorted, he should write a book;  _A Beginners Guide To Hobbit Proverbs._

Well, when he had the time he would come up with a better title.

Besides Bilbo needed something to pass the time when he wasn't either being scowled at by Thorin, being the victim of Kili and Fili's hilarious pranks, or helping Bombur cook for everyone.

The latter the hobbit didn't mind so much; he liked to cook, and Bombur was grateful for the help.

As always, Thorin's company kept moving forward, until they arrived at the ruins of a farm house. Once, a farmer and his family had lived there.

Bilbo didn't like to think what might have happened to them.

Gandalf seemed to share his unease, and presses them to move on, but Thorin would not have it. Then worrying the wizard went off in a huff, leaving Bilbo without his one true friend on this insane trip to an impending fiery doom.

"Is there a problem, Halfling?" asked Thorin with a curled lip when the hobbit muttered something about dwarves having the social graces of a herd of wild pigs.

Now, Bilbo wasn't  _half_  of anything, he was a whole hobbit, a Baggins of Bag end, and detested that particular nickname.

His eyes went wide as saucers when Thorin approached, he had frozen like a deer caught by a hunter. "N-no." he answered, not wanting trouble.

Thorin huffed. "Good, I think we've had enough of your complaints for one day, now try and make yourself useful and take my nephews their food." He shoved two hot bowls into Bilbo's chest and nearly split the lot on our hobbit friend.

Stung and embarrassed, Bilbo gritted his teeth and went in search for the two nuisances, but made sure to look back to the King and mutter " _Anzo_ " before going on his way.

He did eventually find Kili and Fili, and, predictably, Bilbo also found trouble.

"We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies." Kili said with a tight voice.

"Only we've encountered a problem." Fili added, shifting guilty.

"We had sixteen."

"Now there's fourteen."

Bilbo had never met a gang of trolls face to face, not that he would ever want such a thing, for trolls are the stuff of tales told to children to make them obey their parents.

If you don't behave, a troll will come and steal you away!

The only thing these trolls had stolen were ponies, but they were the company's ponies, and Myrtle was among them, so for Bilbo this was  _personal._

Then he was used as a handkerchief and got covered in troll snot.

" _AY! Ayuda!_ " He screamed when the brute held him under his hairy nose, Bilbo gagged when he caught a whiff of the troll's breath.

"ARRGH! Blimey! Bert! Look what's come out of me 'ooter!" Howled the troll, thinking that the hobbit was some kind of mutated booger and he dropped Bilbo to the ground in disgust.

"What you then?" quizzed the second troll. "An oversized squirrel?"

Unfortunately, dear reader, Bilbo was quite in a state and dizzy from being dropped so roughly so could not give an answer. The trolls didn't like that very much.

"Didn't you 'ear him!" roared the one named Bert. "You pitiful mouthful!"

"Can we cook 'im?" asked the smaller troll.

"We can try!" declared the one who had sneezed all over Bilbo and made a grab for him, but the hobbit had recovered his wits and dodged the incoming hand. Bert the troll almost caught him, but the hobbit's quick feet saved him and in the confusion on of the vile creature's hit his brother over the head with a ladle.

But Bilbo was caught literally by the tips of his hairy feet and soon was dangled over the troll's campfire and their slow boiling slop that didn't look edible in the slightest.

" _Deshame en paz!"_  cried the hobbit, waving his arms around in vain, not realising in his terror he'd slipped back into his native tongue.

"What did it say?"

"I don't bleedin' know! I don't' speak squirrel do I?" bellowed Bert the troll, spitting all over Bilbo.

_Una schirata?_

_Oh brilliant! I'm going to be torn to pieces by some dumber than mud trolls!_  The hobbit's vision had begun to blear at the edges, probably because the blood was rushing to his poor head.

Suddenly Kili leaped from the undergrowth with his bow drawn, Bilbo was never so pleased to see him.

"Drop him!" Kili demanded.

"You what?" The troll snarled.

"I said,  _drop him_!"

Now you must know dear reader that trolls are not the brightest sort, and are prone to violent mood swings, so rather than just set Bilbo on the ground out friend was flung like an old sock towards Kili and the two tumbled backwards.

From the surrouning forest there was a great ruckus and the whole company sprang forth and the camp erupted into chaos. In the midst of the shrieking trolls and dwarves Bilbo snuck up to the pen which held Myrtle and her friends, and, here's the good part dear reader, he actually  _stole_ one of the troll's knives to cut the ropes! Maybe he really was  _El ladron._

Alas, the small victory didn't last as Bilbo was snatched up again by the troll named Bert and was held aloft by his arms and legs.

"Drop your arms! Or we'll rip his off!" they threatened.

Thorin looked conflicted, and the hobbit shook his head frantically.  _Don't do it! Don't!_

But with a dark expression Thorin laid down his weapon and the others miserably followed suit. Then they were stuffed into sacks.

Itchy, stinking sacks.

This was turning out to be a bad day for Thorin's company.

The trolls, predictably, intended to eat them and started to roast a few members slowly over a spit. Then they argued about how they should cook them and Bilbo tried his best to stall for time, then, he saw the flash of a white beard in-between the trees.

 _Gandalf! Oh thank the creator!_ The hobbit was ever so relieved to see the wizard, but he would need time to save them, time the dwarves didn't have.

Bilbo then made up some nonsense about parasites, and found out the dwarves  _really_  couldn't take a hint:

"Did he say parasites?!"

"I don't' have parasites! You have parasites!"

And wondered if the trolls were really the stupidest creatures he'd ever come across. Then Thorin, Thorin of all people gave his company a hint of his own, a kick to be precise, and suddenly everyone understood what Bilbo was trying to do.

"I've got the biggest parasites!" Kili again.

"I'm riddled!" that was Oin.

Better late than never Bilbo supposed, and he thanked his lucky stars when Gandalf finally made his appearance.

"May the dawn take you!" he cried and cracked the rock under his feet and a great beam of sunshine shone through and quicker than Bilbo had time to blink the horrid trolls were turned into gloried lawn ornaments for all eternity.

Out of the corner of his eye, the hobbit could have sworn he saw the king smiling, but it must have been his imagination.

No one as grumpy as Thorin could have such a nice smile.

" _Yazik."_  Bilbo said with no end of sarcasm when he looked over the now petrified trolls, and he gave one a kick for good measure. Gandalf chuckled at his antics, lit his pipe, and then went to do whatever it is that wizards do.

The hobbit didn't see Bofur sauntering up to him, grin wide and merry.

"Whoa, fierce little hobbit! Don't' want to hurt the poor things now do we?" he laughed heartily and clapped Bilbo on the shoulder. "By the by, is ya-sick a word for troll?"

The hobbit went stiff, and Bofur seemed to sense a change in mood and his grin dimmed slightly.

"No. it isn't."  _I must be more careful! Can't let my guard down for a minute!_

He shrugged off the warm hand and took quick strides to join the others who were grumbling about parasites and burglars and dwarf princes who had  _one_  job but clearly didn't have enough brain power to do it.

Bofur was left on his own, puzzling.

* * *

_En boka serratha no entra moshka_

If you don't talk about your problems, you cannot find a solution.

* * *

**Later, at the Troll cave.**

A troll hoard was a fine prize indeed, and these particular trolls had some fine things to be had; if you ignored the smell that is. Trolls had a most unique scent.

"Oh, what's that stench?!" Nori made his displeasure at the aroma known to all, and if he was honest Bilbo didn't disagree. He was reluctant to enter, as his nerves were already well and truly fried after nearly being eaten.

But, not wanting to appear cowardly, the hobbit stepped into the dark cavern (he had to hold his nose mind you) it was thick with cobwebs, but any spiders seem to have long vacated to somewhere better, and less smelly.

Bofur and Gloin were pawing over some gold they found, and they'd sent Nori to fetch a shovel.

"What have you up to?" asked Bilbo, for he was a conversational type of hobbit.

Gloin raised a red eyebrow at him and moved so that his body guarded the treasure they'd found.

Bofur, predictably, was friendlier, and didn't seem to be spurned by their earlier encounter: "Oh we found ourselves some pretties Mister Baggins!"

Bilbo frowned. "Pretties?"

"It's what he calls gold." Gloin explained.

"Ah. Umm, why are you burying it?" the hobbit went on, curiosity perked.

"Safe keeping." Nori said, finally arriving back with a shovel.

"Oh! Like  _Interro!_ I see!" Hobbits, my dear reader, have a particular custom of burying precious things into the earth, be it a necklace from an old lover, or maybe a favoured toy from childhood, they believe that since all things good and green come from the ground that makes it the safest place to keep them. This is called ' _Interro'_.

"Inter-ro?" echoed Gloin with appalling inflection. "What Halfling gibberish is that?"

_Oh he_ _**didn't** _ _just-_

Bilbo was, you could say, protective over the ways of the shire and of his fellow hobbits. Sure, he understood that dwarves were different, not just physically but also in the type of lives they lead. He expected there would be some clash of cultures, naturally.

But, dear reader, if these dwarves expected him to just sit idly by while they dismiss a cherished Shirefolk tradition  _and_  called him half of a man, then they had another thing coming.

 _I'll have you know you bearded clot, that Interro is not gibberish, and is in fact a very well loved part of my culture which you just rudely insulted!_ Bilbo wished he could say that out, that he could curse and swear in hill speak and there would be nothing these bearded fools could do or say about it.

But his hobbit upbringing made him bite his tongue, so hard in fact that it nearly bled. "Doesn't matter." He said with a smile that had too many teeth. Only Bofur noticed, and winced apologetically.

"Lad-"

His mother's voice was soft in his ears, she chanted in hill speak to calm him.

_No es mal, Bilba, no es mal…_

"Good day, Bofur, Nori,  _Gloin_." To stop himself from doing something rather unsavoury to the red haired dwarf's person, our friend Bilbo stormed out of the cave, pushing past Ori who yelped in surprise.

"What was that about?" asked Nori, staring at the hobbit's retreating back.

Gloin snorted. "Halflings are strange. Keep digging!"

Bofur didn't comment and was suddenly not all that interested in the chest of pretties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions:
> 
> Anzo – Jackass 
> 
> AY! Ayuda! - Oh! Help! 
> 
> Deshame en paz! – leave me alone! 
> 
> Una schirata? - A squirrel? 
> 
> El ladron – A thief 
> 
> Yazik – What a pity 
> 
> Interro – bury, to be buried. 
> 
> No es mal, Bilba, no es mal – no problem, Bilba, no problem.


	3. Kriza (Crisis)

_Paciencia es paz y sciencia_

Patience is peace and wisdom.

* * *

**That night.**

Bilbo hunched his tiny body further underneath his blanket, eyes fixed on the flickering flame of the campfire.

He had expected some backlash from the others after the troll incident, especially as he outright declared the company riddled with parasites and feared they may well take it as comment on their personal hygiene in general.

Hobbits were, if you didn't' know,  _masters_  of the secret insult. Or as Shirefolk affectionately called it,  _Shaka-respekto._

For example:

Oh what lovely roses (I despise you)

Your husband is sick? What a shame! (You marriage is a shambles)

Would you join me for tea? (I am planning your murder as we speak)

And so on.

But no, Bilbo was rather surprised when by evening it was almost as if they  _hadn't_  been stuffed into sacks, and being partially toasted by some of the foulest creatures that Bilbo had ever had the displeasure of coming across.

It was water off a ducks back to his companions, which was probably a blessing. He should have been sharing their  _alegría,_  and he would have, if only his hands would stop shaking.

 _Really_  now, what was this? Had he not been fine earlier? Had he not gone into that putrid troll cave without thinking too much about it? Why was he full of fear now?

There was a soft swish of movement, and with a grunt Gandalf the Grey sat down next to Bilbo, nibbling his pipe thoughtfully. He blew a single smoke ring, and the hobbit watched it rise then fade away into the air.

" _Buenas noches,_   _Bilba."_  Gandalf puffed.

Bilbo's throat constricted.  _What are you playing at Gandalf? This is not the time or the place-and and don't use my given name! They might hear!_

The old wizard either ignored or didn't see Bilbo's indignant expression and went on.  _"_ _Komo estash?_ _"_ he enquired softly.

The hobbit bit his lip, it wasn't as if he could pretend he couldn't hear, and any protest he made would just draw unwanted attention.

Seeing no other option, and quite frankly hating the Gandalf just a little bit, Bilbo finally relented.

" _Muy byen, grasyas"_  he said in the snarkiest voice he could manage.

Gandalf seemed unruffled by his attitude, and placed a large, wrinkled hand on his friend's arm.  _"te tremblar"_

Bilbo hung his head.  _Ah, so it so that obvious._ He looked up into the old wizard's face, but saw not disapproval, or disappointment, but rather soft concern. Our hobbit was never one to hold a grudge; he had a forgiving heart, so in reply he offered Gandalf a lop-sided smile.

" _Avlame."_  Gandalf pressed.

 _I cannot, and I don't know why._  Bilbo placed his own, smaller hand over Gandalf's and gave it what he hoped was a reassuring pat. "I am fine, really."

Something flickered across the old wizard's face, his eyes crinkled at the edges, and his mouth went into a thin line; but he said no more. With a huff, He got up and left Bilbo alone with his thoughts.

He _could_  go over and join the others, there was a spot next to Bofur that looked quite appealing but, ah, then he would have to sit next to Thorin. Whose glare alone Bilbo was certain could  _melt_ a man at twenty paces. He didn't want to be melted.

Bofur was telling some silly story, and the two princes erupted into hits of giggles, Fili clutched his sides and Kili had tears in his eyes. Thorin didn't even crack a grin. Typical.

He was so handsome, but he'd be even better looking if he just  _smiled._

Bilbo wondered what they could be talking about. Must be hilarious, whatever it was, although Bofur could make a story about a bucket of turnips funny. He had a way with words.

He must have been making some sort of wistful, longing look, because the jolly dwarf caught his eye and beckoned him over with a nod of his head. "Come join us, Master Baggins! I'm sure you have plenty a tale to tell."

Suddenly 13 pairs of eyes were in Bilbo, and he did not like it in the slightest. He was rather flattered by Bofur's offer, but again… there was  _Thorin._

"That's very kind Bofur, oh and please call me Bilbo, but I'm sure your stories are much better than mine… much more exciting for sure." He answered carefully, not wanting to offend anyone.

Bofur looked put out. "You don't' know that laddie, besides, it isn't a contest. Come over here and get warm."

 _But, I am warm, Paylacho,_ thought Bilbo  _the looks Thorin and Dwalin are burning right through me!_

"Well, burglar?" rumbled a familiar, deep voice. "Will you come? Or will you continue to be unsociable?"

Bilbo almost choked, Thorin Oakenshield thought  _he_  was unsociable? He would have laughed, dear reader, if he was in a better mood.

Instead he rolled up his blanket with a grumble and with a muttered  _"Rey Anzo"_  then stomped over to the log on which Bofur was sitting. The dark haired dwarf made no comment as Bilbo settled himself down next to the toy maker.

The fire was indeed pleasant, and Bilbo was warmed and not as grumpy as before, why had he not come over sooner?

Bofur bumped his shoulder against the hobbit's own. "Glad you're here, laddie."

Now, dear reader, Bilbo was always one to over think things, but he could have sworn that what Bofur just said was full of much more meaning than perhaps the dwarf realized.

Bilbo let himself be fanciful for a fleeting moment, and closed his eyes and whispered: " _grasyas, dobro Paylacho."_

As it turns out, Bofur really did tell the funniest stories, and Bilbo let himself laugh for the first time in weeks, head thrown back, throat exposed.

However, in his mirth, he didn't notice that a pair of blue eyes watched him, captivated by his merry sounds and the smooth flesh of his neck.

But Bilbo remained none the wiser, and carried on laughing as the night rolled on.

* * *

_Sale a la puerta te verex_

Come to the door, I will see you

* * *

**The next day**

Meeting Radagast the brown was a… interesting experience.

Gandalf had mentioned him in passing, and Bilbo asked whether he was great and powerful, like Saruman, or more like Gandalf. Not so great.

Apparently he was a peaceful sort of fellow, one who preferred the company of animals to people.

Bilbo understood that feeling completely, he'd much rather have his dear Myrtle over his cousins the Sackville-Baggins', they really were an unpleasant lot, dear reader.

Radagast was in own league of oddness, unkempt hair quite literally crawling with all sorts, beard long and tangled, draped in tatty brown robes with a matching hat, but weirdest of all he had a bizarre trail of what looked like bird droppings down his face.

Oh and he was riding a sled pulled by giant bunny rabbits.

 _Okay then…_ Bilbo was sure this day wasn't going to get any stranger.

"Radagast! Radagast the brown! What are you doing here?" greeted Gandalf.

"I was looking for you, Gandalf! Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong!" declared the brown wizard, looking rather frantic.

"Yes?" asked Gandalf.

Radagast opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He then opened it, but then closed it again; it seemed that he had forgotten what he was going to say. Bilbo hated when that happened! It was dreadfully embarrassing and inconvenient.

"Stick insect!" Radagast yelled, spitting out an actual stick insect into his hand.

At this point Bilbo wasn't the only one who was wondering whether this person was all right in the head.

Gandalf then took Radagast away so they talk about whatever it is that wizards talked about, leaving the company in a state of bemused limbo.

"That was… strange." Commented Dori, beside him, Nori raised an eyebrow.

Thorin did not look pleased and clenched his fists by his sides. "The wizard keeps secrets from us, I do not like it."

"Nor do I." Added Dwalin.

"I-I'm sure he has his reasons." Bilbo piped up, he knew it was bad manners to talk about someone when they were not there, but he felt the need to defend Gandalf.

Thorin turned around and looked Bilbo up and down, as if he not a living thing but rather a peculiar object. "And you, Halfling? What are your reasons?"

The hobbit was dreadfully confused. "Um, for what?"

"For the secrets  _you_ keep." The king narrowed his eyes. "Do not think I haven't noticed the way you keep your distance, the way you whisper when you think no one can hear you-" with every word he stepped closer and closer to Bilbo, who could think to back away, not sure what had gotten into the misplaced King.

But it couldn't be anything good.  _Nada bueno._

"What are you hiding, Halfling, what mischief do you plan?"

Their game of chase was short lived, as Bilbo was forced to stop when he bumped into a tree.

The King was close, too close, dear reader, for our hobbit friend to feel comfortable. He was very impressive, with huge shoulders and despite his securitising expression his irises were like an endless sky on a summer's day. Bilbo gulped.

 _El es alto como el pino._ He wasn't even sure where these feelings werecoming from, they were certainly  _new._

 _It's been awhile_ the hobbit's mind whirled  _I'm just feeling a bit lonely… that's all. And he's rather… attractive; you could say this is a perfectly natural reaction. Yep._

"Well?" Thorin urged as he leaned into poor Bilbo's face until their noses almost touched. This, the hobbit concluded, would be a very poor moment to pass out again, and willed himself not too.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Bilbo said in the steadiest voice he could pull off, although his pitch was a tad higher than normal. "I'm not hiding anything from you! By my feet I swear!"

Despite it not being the best time for it, Bilbo couldn't help but think of his Auntie Rose, another relative with another Shirefolk saying: _El ladron siempre avla mintira_ s **.**

A thief always lies.

A pit premature, for Bilbo hadn't actually stolen anything yet, and he wasn't quite lying, more like not telling Thorin the whole truth. But only a fool would think that was much better.

The king looked as if he was about to say something important, but was cut off by a long howl off in the distance.

Bilbo snapped to attention and cold dread filled him. Wolves, it could only be wolves, like the ones who had killed his Ma and Pa so many years ago.

 _By the creator, no. Will I die here?_  His fear threatened to overwhelm him.

"Was that a wolf? Are-are there wolves out there?" he asked, looking all around.

"That's no wolf." Bofur replied, with great foreboding.

Almost as soon as he had said that, from behind a crag a giant beast lunged itself at the dwarves, face twisted into a hideous snarl.

It went straight for Thorin, Bilbo's heart skipped a couple of beats, but in a flash the king had wielded his sword like a true warrior and struck down the wolf-thing with one fatal swipe.

"Warg scouts!" he declared. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind."

" _Orc pack?!"_

Indeed, dear reader, Bilbo Baggins finally got his overdue introduction to Orcs. And he decided to retract his earlier statement about trolls being the foulest creatures he had ever come across. Orcs held the title now, for however long he was to live.

It was a good thing that hobbits could sprint; otherwise our hobbit friend would have been a tasty Warg snack.

Bofur grabbed Bilbo's shirt to pull him behind the rocks when it was time to hide, and in watched as Radagast's sled pulled by his rabbits whizzed by with at least six Orcs in pursuit. Odd he may be, but incredibly brave and Bilbo sent a prayer his way:

_Va con pye ogurli, Pasharo ombre._

Despite Radagast's valiant efforts, the Orcs were soon nipping at the heels of Bilbo and his companions. Kili came into his own when he took out one or two of the monsters with his bow, but it wasn't enough; they needed an escape.

"Move! Run!" cried Gandalf.

Bilbo didn't know if he could take much more, his legs burned and he was sure that his heart might explode.

The hobbit really hoped the old wizard knew what he was doing, which, most of the time, did not seem to be the case. At all. But at least he had a better sense of direction than Thorin. For a very scary moment, Gandalf disappeared, and there was panic:

"Where's Gandalf?!"

"He's abandoned us!"

It wasn't true, it  _couldn't_ be true.

Thankfully, dear reader, the old wizard then reappeared from a crack in a nearby rock face "This way you fools!"

The Wargs were near, Thorin roared to his company to get inside the cave, and then swiftly killed one warg that got too close for comfort, and Kili, well, he continued to impress everyone with his archery and shot another. Uncle and Nephew then jumped into the crack, at last, but then they were all started by the sound of Elvish horns.

It was a pretty unmistakable sound, and it made the dwarves toes curl.

Bilbo had never seen elves before, he had heard that their beauty and grace was unmatched, but he had not expected them to be quite so… effective in dispatching Orcs. A limp body fell through the crack, pierced with several arrows, and Thorin plucked on from the corpse and examined it.

"Elves." He hissed, with great distaste.

They were in a cave, and the cave had a pathway. By the looks of things they were going to follow it, wherever it may lead. It was certainly a better option than going back the way they came.

With bated breath, the company went down the long, narrow path, which in reality was just a slit between two overhanging cliffs, and the dwarves were rather a bulky bunch, so at times they had trouble squeezing through.

When they emerged, Bilbo's eyes were greeted with a sight so lovely he could have wept. A large valley which had a city nestled within it: Rivendell.

Of course, the shire would be the most beautiful place in all of Arda (in Bilbo's humble opinion) but this gorgeous Elvin city was a close second.

" _Santo medra …"_  he breathed, as he was very much in awe.

The dwarves, unfortunately, did not agree.

"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy?" Thorin just  _had_ to go and ruin the soothing ambience with his hatred of everything that wasn't a dwarf.

Gandalf clicked his tongue and gave Thorin a warning glare "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that you bring yourself."

The old Wizard was full of good wisdom when the fancy took him.

The misplaced king looked angry enough to strangle a bear, but grumbling profoundly he led his company forward; like a herd of nervous deer they moved nervously down the stone bridge to Rivendell's gate.

Bilbo was too taken by the scenery to feel any sort of apprehension, he wondered over to a statue and reached out to touch the stone but Thorin seized him by the scruff and pulled him back. Because that was an  _Elvin_ statue, and it might dangerous, you never know.

Then all of a sudden there were elves (which made sense, as they were in Rivendell), very tall, but rather nice elves that wanted to invite them inside for dinner.

They were clean, and didn't smell like a pony's back end.

There was library, with real books, and gardens with flowers and trees with no a troll or Orc in sight.

They had their own  _language. Which they sould speak freely in front of outsiders._

Not like Hill speak or Khuzdul, they were secret, only to be spoken by its people.

This was a new place they had come to.

Bilbo was going to like it here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions:
> 
> Shaka-respekto – false respect
> 
> Alegría – joy
> 
> Buenas noches, Bilba – Good evening, Bilbo 
> 
> Komo estash? – are you okay?
> 
> Muy byen, grasyas – very well, thank you
> 
> te tremblar – you tremble
> 
> Avlame – talk to me
> 
> Paylacho – clown 
> 
> Rey Anzo – King Jackass
> 
> grasyas, dobro Paylacho. – Thank you, good clown 
> 
> Nada bueno – nothing good
> 
> El es alto como el pino – he is as tall as a pine
> 
> Va con pye ogurli, Pasharo ombre – take good luck and a foot, bird  
> man. 
> 
> Santo medra – holy shit (hehehehe…)


	4. Rosica (Bloom)

**** _Por hablar la verdad, se pierde la amistad._

Speak the truth and lose friends.

**\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Rivendell was twice as beautiful inside as it was outside.

Fine, delicate carvings danced across the walls and up the columns, and every piece of furniture showed masterful craftsmanship, only the finest work would do the elves.

Not that Thorin’s company took any notice; in fact, they scoffed and quietly scorned at it all; under the watchful eye of their king, of course. And deliberately tread mud wherever they went.

It was enough to make Bilbo hold his head in his hands. Gandalf seemed content to just shake his head at the lot of them.

They didn’t really have time to gussy themselves up for dinner, nor had the desire, really, the dwarves just wanted to shove food in their mouths and go while having as little to do with their hosts as possible.

Our hobbit friend tried to straighten himself up, but without a bath and a comb he couldn’t look much better than dishevelled. With slight exasperation he notices that his trousers were tearing at the knees, but there was no point worrying over such silly little things now, not when there was food to be had.

It has been said, dear reader, that hobbits have two stomachs, if that was true then Bilbo intended to eat his fill twice over.

He strolled towards the dining room, which was on a balcony, and saw that his companions were being led by some servants to their seats, good, he was nice and punctual.

Lord Elrond, who presided over Rivendell, was chatting to Gandalf as they entered. Bilbo wasn’t surprised that they knew each other; the wizard was well travelled and had been on many an adventure. The hobbit wondered if they were the same age, Elves were eternal, so Lord Elrond might even be _older_ than Gandalf.

That was a scary thought.

Bilbo trotted over to the company and was about to be seated but it was then that Lord Elrond seemed to notice his presence.

“Ah.” He said, with a mellow voice. “This is your Halfling.” He had a gentle, peaceful expression, and sincere eyes, so Bilbo forgave him for the Halfling comment.

What happened next almost bowled him over.

The elf knelt down on one knee, smiled into Bilbo’s face

“ _Shalom, mi amigo, eres bienvenido_.”

The production was _perfect,_ as if his own mother had said it, Gandalf always put a too much on the vowels, but Lord Elrond had greeted him flawlessly.

Bilbo gaped, unashamedly, for a full ten seconds before he pulled himself together and reply.

“.. I-I… _grasias,_ _Aga Elra, yo estar beinvenido.”_

Lord Elrond’s smile grew a tad wider, and he reached for Bilbo’s hand, the hobbit held his breath as the elf lifted up his hand then, ever so lightly touched his nose to the ends of the hobbit’s fingers.

Bilbo thought he heard the smash of a wine glass colliding with a stone wall which was followed by a surprised shriek and reproachful mutterings, but he ignored it. Lord Elrond had his full attention.

Not only did he know Hill speak, but he knew Shirefolk greetings as _well?_  This certainly was a nice change. He mimicked Lord Elrond’s movement, trying to hold back his giddy grin.

Somebody kicked over a chair.

The elf stood up to his full height, which was very high indeed, and nodded to Gandalf who winked back. With his hand, he motioned Bilbo to follow him into the dining room.

The silence was… off putting, to say the least, Bilbo was even aware dwarves could be so quiet. And he pointedly did not look in Thorin’s direction when he took his seat next to Bofur.

 _Oh dear… I’ve put my foot in it._ The hobbit began to nibble of some of the delicious looking salad offered, and tried to ignore all the stares and open mouthed looks he was getting.

Kili elbowed his sharply in the ribs, and Bilbo nearly choked on the lettuce he was eating.

“Kili! That hurt you know!” he protested.

“What was that?!” whispered Kili furiously.

“What was what?” Bilbo tried to feign innocence.

“Don’t be clever Halfling. You. That Elf. Explain.” Dwalin was always straight to the point.

The hobbit wished he had Gandalf to help him, but Gandalf was sitting at another table, maybe he could run for it? No, that would just look suspicious. _Maltido!_

“Oh, _that,_ well, we were just saying hello to each other.” Bilbo may as well be honest.

“Old friends are you?” continued Dwalin, with a surly tone.

Out hobbit friend shook his head. “No! Not at all, we’ve never met. I swear by my feet!”

“What have you feet got to do with it?”  Kili questioned, scrunching up his nose.

“Tis a hobbit saying.” Bofur explained. 

 _Thank the creator; at least one of you has been paying attention._ Bilbo sent a thankful glance in Bofur’s direction, but then he deflated. “Is- is Thorin very cross with me?”

“I’d say so.” Kili said as he picked at his food. “He hates elves, and you’re all cosy with the _Lord_ of elves.” He whistled lowly. “What makes it worse it that he-”

He was kicked sharply under the table and the prince yelped in pain and clutched his knee. Bilbo guessed it was Dwalin, or maybe Oin, because they were both glaring daggers at Kili.

The hobbit suddenly found that he had no appetite, and as politely as he could, excused himself and took a fast paced walk (not a run) down some steps and away from the balcony into the nearest garden.

This scenery was truly something, and Bilbo felt instantly calmed by it. The trees alone were stunning, and there were so many different species: _Rolve, Akaju,_ _Pino…_

 _The fine weather must allow all sorts to grow,_ Pondered the hobbit, _I do miss my little patch of sunshine back home._

Then, Heavy, purposeful footsteps plodded down the steps, and Bilbo stiffened, it could only be _him._

“Burglar.”

 It was a command to turn around, instead of a greeting. But the hobbit found that he was in rather a rebellious mood, so took his time, gazing up at the leaves, until turning to the king.

His face was like a _borraska._

“Enjoying the view?” Thorin inquired, none too nicely.

“Yes, I am. It’s very pretty here.” replied Bilbo, trying not to incur any Roth from the misplaced King.

“On the surface maybe-” Thorin began. “But underneath, you’ll find it to be rotten. So take caution, Master Baggins, before you pry any further.” He finished with a sneer, aimed over his shoulder in Lord Elrond’s direction.

Bilbo set his jaw. “I wish you would give them a chance, the elves, they’re really not-”

“What do you know of elves!” roared Thorin. “According to Gandalf, You knew nothing of their kind until today, but I see they have already won you over.” He gestured to Bilbo with his hand. “You seem _especially_ taken by Lord Elrond, tell me, are all hobbits so forward? Because that little show of yours was rather _indecent_ , at least by dwarf standards.”

Bilbo could believe his ears. Surely wasn’t suggesting, well, he wasn’t _suggesting_ more like accusing, but that wasn’t the point. Thorin he- he actually _believed_ that Bilbo was… _azer shakaruka_ … with _Lord Elrond?_

The hobbit didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I have _no_ idea what you thought you saw, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo’s rage was building. “Even if I was flirting, which I most certainly was _not_ , but if I was –who are _you_ , to tell _me_ what I can and cannot do!”

Thorin looked incensed. “I’ll tell you who am I you impertinent little Halfling! I am a King-”

“No you’re not!” interrupted Bilbo. “You don’t have a kingdom yet! And besides, you’re not _mi rey!_  So you don’t any power over me, your _majesty!”_  

“How dare you-” Thorin interjected, his blue iris’s smouldering so hot Bilbo thought me might get burnt, or drown. You could drown in those eyes.  “In fact, since you like name calling so much, then _te dire quien sois_.” The hobbit took a breath. _“quien sois, el cabello largo, el muelo corto í to blando pie barbaro!”_  

He shouldn’t abuse his native tongue in this way, it was disrespectful but Bilbo no longer cared, dear reader, whether his ancestors were watching him or not.  This dwarf needed a good dressing down.

 “I do not know what any of that means.” Thorin barked, looking unwillingly bewildered.  “I’m sure Gandalf will be _happy_ to translate.” Snapped Bilbo, then stuck his nose in the air and walked in the opposite direction.

“ _Adios!_ ” “Get back here!” Thorin demanded. “I’m not finished with you-” 

“Well I am finished Thorin!” Bilbo called into the air. “I am _done,_ done with dwarves for one day!” 

He soon disappeared from sight, leaving the King standing alone in the courtyard. He warily looked up to the balcony where Gandalf was watching the Hobbit storm away, fuming and swearing in that strange language of his. 

 “What did he call me?”  Gandalf coughed, and drummed his fingers on the stone. “I would not care to repeat it, as we in polite company.” Thorin nodded grimly, and then looked in the direction that Master Baggins had left.

That had not gone how he intended… _at all._

 

**\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_Quien da en primero, da con miedo._  

Whoever gives first, gives with fear.

**\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**The following night.**

When he had the chance to calm down, Bilbo found that he wasn’t at all pleased about his clash for Thorin earlier that day

He tried to feel pleasure in the fight he’d had, tried to see it as some sort of victory, but alas he could not. Out hobbit friend was not the warring kind.

Any exhilaration had faded, and instead left a horrid feeling of tiredness and anger, and oddly enough, it wasn’t at the king.

Bilbo was angry with _himself._ He had made such a scene, right there in front of everyone, making a mockery of Thorin where there was no need. And he’d disgraced his parents by wielding his native tongue like some sort of twisted weapon against someone who wasn’t even his enemy.

It was a cowardly tactic, for he knew the king couldn’t have responded, for he knew not what Bilbo had said.

No. This was not going to stand.

He was a Baggins of Bag End, a Gentlehobbit, not some slurring lout.  

He was going to find Thorin and apologise profoundly, he just hoped the king wouldn’t throttle him the moment they clapped eyes on each other.

Bilbo was also going to say sorry to Lord Elrond, for ruining dinner.

But finding the king would be a tricky task.

Thorin could be anywhere in Rivendell, it was rather expansive, most likely he’d pick some dark nook or cranny to hide in so that he wouldn’t be bothered by the pesky elves around the place.

He began by searching through the various courtyards, Thorin was one to take solitary walks, so maybe, and with a bit of luck, he’d be skulking around somewhere, or scowling into the distance on one of the balconies.

The hobbit wondered around the great stone and wood houses, stairs and flowing fountains until he heard a pair of little voices whispering, like mice scuttling along some leaves.

 “t-te dar-dare? No, dire, qu-quin?” muttered someone.

“No, no that’s all wrong.” mumbled someone else. “It was more like _dire_ , yes _dire_ qu-que? Umm, this is hard.”

Bilbo knew those voices.

 Kili and Fili, and they were trying to-

The hobbit followed the sound of garbled Westron and Hill Speak and finally peered around a corner to see the two princes quietly arguing on a bench.

“What are you doing?!” The hobbit demanded, more viciously than intended.

Kili and Fili all but jumped out of their royal skins, and Kili drew his bow.

“Oh Mr Boggins, it’s just you!” Kili let out a laugh of relief when he saw Bilbo. “You snuck up on us!”

“He really is a burglar.” Grinned Fili, moustache braids knocking against his chin.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and padded over, hands on his hips. “Well, _I_ could hear you, very clearly, in fact; just what do you think you are _doing_?”

Kili’s smiled faded and his eyes flickered towards his brother, and likewise, in the way that children do when they feel guilty.

“We… erm, we were trying to learn your words.” Fili admitted.

“But we’re not very good at it.” Added Kili, shuffling his feet.  

Bilbo groaned, and dragged his hand down his face. “Of course you were, just- just listen, yes?” he gathered the brothers close, and they waited eagerly. “Firstly, they’re not _my_ words, I don’t own them, but it is very important to hobbits so-”

“Is it like Khuzdul?” Kili blurted. “Is it a secret? Is it special?”

“Yes, yes it is, it’s not supposed to leave the Shire-”

“What is it called?” Fili interrupted.

“What is- that doesn’t _matter!”_ Bilbo was getting rather frazzled.

“Oh go on tell us.” They pleaded.

“Hill Speak, now will you-”

“So _that’s_ what it’s called!” Fili and Kili were like a pair of pups bouncing around their owner at feeding time, the questions were endless.  “Do all hobbits speak it?” “Is it very difficult to learn?” “Will you teach us-” “What does-”

“AHHHHH!” Bilbo threw back his head and yelled, it seemed to work, as the brothers snapped their mouth’s closed and took a step back from the now very irritated hobbit.

“I think we’ve upset him, Kee.” Fili said to Kili.

Bilbo tiredly rubbed his temples, for he was sure that he could feel the beginnings of a headache. “If I tell you about Hill speak, you must promise, that you will not go and blab about it to the whole world and their mother, because it’s is a very important part of my culture, and me, so please respect that.”

He waited for the brothers to respond, and after a beat, the nodded in unison and said in perfect time. “We understand.”

The hobbit blinked, one of these days he was going to find out just how they did that.

“… Alright then, good, that is good, but you must also understand that I can _tell_ you about Hill Speak, but I won’t teach it to you, I can’t teach it to you”

_You’re not hobbits. This language is for hobbits._

That was met by a barrage of protest. “What?!” “Why?!” “That’s hardly fair!”

Bilbo held up his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be.”

Fili and Kili pouted, but they accepted Bilbo’s terms, for now at least. They then sat back down on the bench and dragged the hobbit to sit between them.

“Go on then.” Kili pressed. “Tell us about Hill Speak.”

Out hobbit friend straightened his waistcoat, for the two princes had wrinkled it, and looked upwards to the sky. Stars of all sizes smiled down at them, and the moon was round and bright.

And on that bench, in the City of Rivendell, is where Bilbo Baggins told the stories of the Shirefolk. And he had quite forgotten that he was looking for Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions:   
> Shalom, mi amigo, eres bienvenido. – Hello, my friend, you are welcome. 
> 
> I-I… grasias, Aga Elra, yo estar beinvenido – I-I,.. Thank you, Lord Elrond, I feel welcome
> 
> Rolve, Akaju, Pino – Oak, Mahogany, Pine
> 
> Borraska – Thunderstorm 
> 
> azer shakaruka – flirting, to make a flirtatious comment
> 
> te dire quien sois – I’ll tell you who you are
> 
> quien sois, el cabello largo, el muelo corto í to blando pie barbaro! – You are long in hair and short in sence, and a soft foot barbarian! 
> 
> Adios! – Goodbye!

**Author's Note:**

> Definitions:  
> Anzo – Jackass 
> 
> AY! Ayuda! - Oh! Help! 
> 
> Deshame en paz! – leave me alone! 
> 
> Una schirata? - A squirrel? 
> 
> El ladron – A thief 
> 
> Yazik – What a pity 
> 
> Interro – bury, to be buried. 
> 
> No es mal, Bilba, no es mal – no problem, Bilba, no problem.


End file.
